


Dear Elegos

by Kelly_Grosskreutz



Category: Star Wars Legends: I Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole, Star Wars Legends: New Jedi Order Series - Various Authors, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dark Tide: Ruin, Gen, Grappling with the Dark Side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelly_Grosskreutz/pseuds/Kelly_Grosskreutz
Summary: After the death of a dear friend, Corran tries to sort out his feelings and reflects on his life in a series of letters. Written in 2000 after the publication ofDark Tide: Ruin. References events of that book, as well as events from the X-Wing novels andI, Jedi.
Kudos: 2





	1. The Vicious Circle

Dear Elegos,

I'm writing you this letter, even though I know that you will never get to read it. Part of me feels silly, writing a letter that will never be sent, but Mirax suggested it, saying that writing can sometimes help a person release or deal with what's troubling them. I've never been much of a writer, but I don't know what else to do. The one thing I really want to do is something I can never do again. The other thing I really want to do is the thing I've already done, the thing I should never have done.

Therein lies the problem. I crossed the line over to the dark side. And the one person I feel I could really have talked to about it, the one person who could have said the right words and told me what I needed to hear, who could have helped guide me away from the dark side, was you. I really need to talk to you, my dear friend. But I can't.

I feel as if I'm caught in a vicious circle, one from which I'm not sure I can escape. I need you to help me deal with these dark side tendencies that I'm finding in myself before it becomes too late. But yet, I wouldn't need your help to deal with it if you hadn't been killed, making me angry and seeking vengeance in the first place, bringing those tendencies to the fore. These two things chase each other around in an endless circle in my head.

What's even worse, though, is the music to which those two thoughts dance. There's always this little voice underneath it all that says, "You failed. You screwed up. You thought you were too good to fall to the dark side. You underestimated the power of the dark side, and now it's going to be a part of you forever." Sometimes these words are spoken in my father's voice. Sometimes it's my own voice. Sometimes it's Luke's, bringing to mind that one conversation we had so long ago about the dark side. I can still hear the words I said to him ringing in my ears. "I've nothing to fear from the dark side." Oh, how wrong I was, Master Luke. How wrong, and how arrogant.

You saw it, Elegos. You saw it back then, when we first met. You tried to warn me, to deter me. And it worked. Sort of. You turned me away from the dark path then, but I was too blind to see that it wasn't just a one-time occurence. These things were, and are, a part of me. Oh, why couldn't I have seen this when you were still alive? Why did this realization have to come now, upon your death, when it's too late for you to help me?

If I had those tendencies then, and I still have them now, then I am forced to conclude that I've always had these tendencies. I've spent much time in meditation since I've come back to Grandpa Rostek's, and I've been forced to realize that, when things are bad, I have always dealt with things in less than a positive way.

When my mother died, it wasn't so bad. I had my dad there with me. I felt I had to be strong for him, because I knew how close he had been to Mom. He had to have felt as bad as I would if something ever happened to Mirax. But, even though I knew he was hurting inside, he was still able to focus on the good things in his life. We had been close before Mom's death, but we grew closer still as we helped each other through it.

When my father died, on the other hand, it was completely different. I felt much as I do now, like a hole had been ripped inside of me. Again, I didn't know who to turn to. I talked to Grandpa Rostek, but I didn't want to burden him too much. After all, I knew he was grieving for a son as well. I had friends who helped me get through it, but it wasn't the same.

He was more than a father to me. He was a mentor and a friend. And I felt I had let him down by not being able to save him, by letting him die alone. Who could really understand that? He was the only one I could have talked to about it that I knew would have a chance of understanding, but now he was gone. I did talk about it, with Grandpa, and with Iella and Gil, but it wasn't helping. I was feeling the same way. I didn't know what to do, where to go.

Burying myself in my work didn't help, for it was while I was doing my job that my father had been killed. Bringing in my father's murderer didn't help because that idiot Loor let him go on some technicality. There were nights when I would lie awake, thinking about hunting down Bossk and exacting my own justice. Only two things held me back during those times, Elegos. One, CorSec frowned upon those who engaged in vigilante justice and, although I knew CorSec would chalk it up to a "weapons malfunction" or some other excuse, I would have to live with the knowledge that I'd stooped to the level of some of the people I'd hauled in.

The other thing that stopped me, the one thing that stopped me when nothing else could, is the knowledge that my father wouldn't have wanted it. In all the cases he'd ever worked, not once did he ever make it personal. When the accident that led to my mother's death was investigated, not once did he scream for the guilty driver's blood or want him thrown in jail for the rest of his life. He just wanted to see justice done. By chasing down Bossk, I would have been making it personal, and I would have betrayed him.

I didn't think of all that last part then, of course. It was many years later when I realized Dad never made his cases personal. But I still knew he would not have wanted it. I felt I'd let him down enough already by not being there when he most needed me. I wasn't going to compound it by ending the investigation into his death in a way he would not want.

So, as I said, I didn't know what I was going to do. I felt like I would go crazy if I couldn't get rid of these feelings. Iella, dear friend that she is, saw this and did the only thing she could think of to help me get rid of them. She and Gil took me to the worst cantina in all of Coronet City and got me involved in a bar brawl.

Oh, how good it felt to beat those guys up! With every person I punched, kicked, or otherwise was able to hurt, I was able to release a little bit of my anger and frustration. I walked out of that cantina feeling better than I had in months.

At the time, I thought this was a good thing. I felt more like myself, after all, and had been able to rid myself of those awful feelings. No longer did I lie awake plotting the murder of Bossk. I've never told anyone about that, you know. Not Iella, not Gil, not Mirax, not Grandpa. I wonder now if Iella saw that desire in me, however, and if that was why she took me to that cantina.

At the time, I thought it was a good thing. Now, I look back upon that time, and I see way too many similarities. No, I did not actually lie awake at night, plotting Shedao Shai's murder. But the whole time I was setting up that duel on Ithor, the whole time I was convincing the galaxy and myself that my intentions were purely honorable and noble, my subconscious was anxiously awaiting the day I could take my revenge.

I never realized that. When I proposed the idea of the duel to the Council, when Shai and I set up the week's waiting period before our fight, the whole time I was on Ithor awaiting Shai's arrival, even when I was fighting him, I could never see the underlying motives stemming from the darker part of myself. I wasn't doing it for Ithor. I wasn't doing it for all the innocent people that would mourn if their planet was lost. I wasn't doing it to avert a threat, or to save the pollen that could damage Yuuzahn Vong armor. I wasn't even doing it for you. I was doing it for _me_ , for my own selfish reasons, to fulfill my own selfish desires.

I did it for me, Elegos. I didn't even do it because I wanted justice for your murder. I didn't want justice. I wanted revenge. I wanted him to suffer, as you had suffered. I wanted him to know that his time had come, and that he would never again get to hurt another person. In that one instant, I released my outrage and anger at your death. In that one instant, I truly made that duel personal. In that one instant, I betrayed not only my father, but you and myself.

So now, I come back to where I started. I still really want to talk to you, but it's just as impossible now as it was when I started this letter. And what's even worse, now, is that I am faced with temptation again. Do you know how badly I want to go down to Treasure Ship Row, find the seediest cantina, and get myself into the biggest, most violent bar brawl I've ever been in? It'd even be so easy. All I'd have to do is walk in and show my face. I mean, who wouldn't want a crack of ridding the galaxy of the Man That Destroyed Ithor?

It'd be so easy, and it's so tempting, but I can't give in to it. Not now. Not ever. For if I did, there really would be no coming back. I would be irrevocably lost.

So I won't go to Treasure Ship Row, and I won't go into a cantina and try to start a fight. But that doesn't help me rid myself of these feelings. How can I do that, Elegos? How can I break this circle? I feel that breaking this circle is the key to my salvation, but how? And how long will it take? I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Your friend,

_Corran_


	2. Denial

Dear Elegos,

I can't believe I'm doing this again. Even as I am sitting here writing this, I _know_ that no one's going to read it. I keep asking myself why I'm doing this, and I'm not coming up with an answer to that question. I keep thinking that I should be thinking that this is a complete waste of time.

But yet, I don't. It's weird, but I feel like there is some reason I am doing this. I don't really know why, but I've never been one to deny a hunch. I mean, I didn't really get rid of any of my anger or frustration. I really didn't think it had even done much for me, at first. But as I went through the next couple of days, a couple of the phrases came back to me. I couldn't get them out of my head, and I couldn't figure out why. After all, it was stuff I already knew. But there had to be some reason why it kept popping into my head, so I decided to give it some thought.

The same question that I've been asking myself since that fateful day was still playing in my head. Why couldn't I have realized sooner the real reason I wanted to fight Shedao Shai? Interspersed with that question were memories of that fight, and what I had done.

Those two things kept coming to me in the days after I wrote you the first time, and then it hit me. I had been looking at this in totally the wrong way. I kept going over and over the same old things, but I wasn't really trying to think about any of it. All I was doing was dwelling on what had happened, and bemoaning my fate and blindness, when the thing I really needed to be thinking on was right there in front of me, if I'd just quit whining long enough to see it.

Why _hadn't_ I been able to see it? I knew it had been there, was able to figure that out after the fact, so why hadn't I been able to see that _before_ the fact?

That's what I _really_ needed to be thinking on. As an investigator, I was trained to ask questions and then use the clues I was able to gather to help guide me to my conclusion. The question was right in front of me the whole time. I had to focus on that, and treat everything else simply as a clue. I had to distance myself emotionally from what had happened, at least for a short time, so I could look at my problem a little bit more objectively.

I made that the basis of my meditations for a bit, and it was only then that I was able to make a discovery. I had been living in denial. I knew that wanting to take revenge and slay Shai was wrong and had no part in my life as a Jedi, but yet I wanted to do that so badly that, to do so, I was forced to hide it from myself.

Then I realized, upon further reflection, that the reason it had been so easy to hide this from myself is because I'd had many years of experience at it. I've been living in denial for most of my life, but it's just now that I am able to see this and acknowledge it.

I know I was doing it as a kid. I mentioned up above that I always follow my hunches. Well, I got them as a kid, too, but the only difference is I had no idea why I was getting them. I just thought they were normal, that everyone got them, and therefore didn't think much about them.

Then the other kids started to comment on them. I always seemed to know if we were going to have a substitute teacher, or if somebody was lying to me. The other kids started looking at me a little strangely. They kept asking me how I knew these things. Most of them were amazed at how accurate my hunches were, although they got me in trouble with some of the toughs in my class, who loved any excuse to pick on someone smaller than them.

This started to bug me. I'd thought that these hunches were normal, but the other kids didn't seem to think so. One night, I decided to ask my father about them.

I was kind of surprised by his answer, but yet I kind of wasn't as well. He didn't seem surprised when I told him about them, but nodded knowingly and told me not to be afraid of them, but to just act on them when they came to me. He did suggest that I try not to make a big deal out of them at school, though, because it might cause trouble with the wrong people.

I thought he was talking about the bullies. Now, of course, I know what he really meant.

Anyway, that answer satisfied me for awhile. I didn't make a big deal out of them and didn't really mention them except to my closest friends. They still stuck by me, but I could tell that they were amazed at times. I had the sinking suspicion that, regardless of what my father had told me about them, that there was something he wasn't telling me about them.

This worried me. What if they really _weren't_ normal, but my dad just didn't want to tell me?

So I decided to talk to my grandfather. The next time I spent the night, I told him everything. He listened carefully, not speaking until I was done.

When I had finished, he looked into my eyes and asked, "This bothers you a lot, doesn't it, Corran?"

I nodded, feeling miserable and afraid of what he'd say.

"Corran, you know your father would never lie to you, don't you?" he questioned, looking at me intently.

"Of course, I know he wouldn't lie to me, Grandfather," I replied, taken aback by the question.

"They really are nothing to be afraid of, Corran," he reassured. "Everyone gets hunches from time to time. I've even had a few in my time."

I was a little surprised to hear that. I did, and I knew my father did, but I'd never heard about anyone else getting them. "You did?"

"Yes, once or twice. It's a good trait for a CorSec officer to have. Can save your life or the life of a friend."

He then proceeded to tell me a couple of stories about times he'd been in situations where he or a partner of his had had a feeling something was about to happen, and because they'd followed their hunch, no one got hurt. He also told me about a friend of his who'd always felt that something bad would happen to him if he left the system. One day, he left the system, only to be killed on the way home.

Grandpa must've seen the look in my eyes after that story, for he smiled and said, "I doubt things will ever get that dramatic, but it's a good thing to listen to your hunches and not to ignore them. Could save your life, or could just keep you from getting in trouble at school."

I nodded, feeling better about myself than I had in awhile. "I will, Grandpa," I'd promised.

Grandpa's stories reassured me, and I quit thinking so much about them. I allowed myself to think they were normal, although I still didn't really mention them except around close friends.

I managed to convince myself that they were, indeed, normal. And, because I wanted to be normal, because I wanted to be like everyone else and not be seen as different, I never allowed myself to question anything that seemed the slightest bit abnormal. If people decided to change their minds for completely no reason to fit what I wanted them to think or do, I figured that they'd just decided to use common sense. The time when my father and I brought down Zekka Thyne and he managed to shoot Thyne without having a finger anywhere near the trigger, I chose not to pursue it and let it go, even though I knew what had happened down in those caverns was completely impossible. When I was hiding from those stormtroopers when I was escaping from Lusankya, I didn't allow myself to think too deeply on _why_ they never saw me, just chalked it up to luck.

Even when I was in the Jedi Mausoleum, and I saw my father as a Jedi apprentice in that holo, I didn't want to believe it. I kept trying to convince myself that that wasn't him, that it was some other boy, even though I _knew_ it was him. Because if my father had been a Jedi apprentice, that would mean that he hadn't been normal. Would mean that I wasn't normal.

That was brought home to me when Luke told me about my heritage and asked me to train with him. There is no way I could have accepted that offer at that time. By accepting that offer, I would be admitting that I was different from everyone else. I would never be able to settle down with Mirax, have a family, fly and hang out with the other Rogues, everything I had come to consider normal.

But, even though I didn't accept his offer, I could no longer deny it to myself. I was not normal. I had come from a family of Jedi. My father had been in training to be a Jedi. I knew, then, that that instance with the stormtroopers hadn't luck, but my unconscious usage of the Force. And, if I had been using the Force without even knowing it then, what else had I been using the Force for? How different was I really from everyone else?

As I look back upon the following two years, I realize just how weird they were, and how confused I was. Part of me was fascinated by this discovery of my heritage. That part of me felt relieved at having an explanation as to _why_ I'd always felt like I was different from the others. This part of me is the reason why I read those holotapes that Luke sent to me about the Jedi, and why I did things like try to influence stormtroopers' minds on Thyferra.

The other part of me, though, was terrified. I wasn't normal. I'd been forced to realize that at least some of what I'd done or thought was normal for me was really being given to me through the Force. This part of me questioned every last thing I did, wondering if it was normal or if it was just me. Whenever something slightly strange happened to me or around me, even if it had happened before, I had to run it past someone to get their opinion. I'm amazed that Mirax put up with it all without becoming at least a little annoyed.

Mirax. She's how I passed that hurdle, you know. I probably would've spent the rest of my whole life locked in an internal battle I was barely even aware of, but then she was taken by Tavira and the Jensaarai. When she was ripped from my mind, the battle was decided for me. After Tycho confirmed for me that my bond with Mirax was indeed exceptional, and the option of joining the Jedi was again put before me, I was finally able to make a decision.

For this no longer affected just me. I thought that my abilities and my heritage only affected me, so I was content to wait until the stars went nova before becoming a Jedi. But now Mirax was involved, and not just because she was wearing the Jedi Credit medallion I had given her. I had formed a bond through the Force with the woman I loved most in the galaxy, and _I had no idea how I had done it!_

When I learned that I was going to be going up against a bunch of Dark Jedi who had control over the Force, I saw that, as I was, I would have no chance at all against them. I had no idea what I was doing with the Force, no control whatsoever. Everything I had ever done with the Force was instinctual, unplanned. Once I saw the truth of these things, I had no choice left but to accept Luke's offer.

Of course, it wasn't smooth sailing then. Although I had consented to train as a Jedi, that didn't mean my dilemma was over. I walked away from the Academy because I still wasn't ready to accept my role as a Jedi, although I cited other reasons at the time. I totally denied my Jedi heritage for the next few months.

When I met you, though, dear friend, that changed. When I met you, I was perilously close to being lost to the Dark Side. You saw that, and helped guide me back. I thought at the time that that hurdle had been crossed. I acknowledged that I had gone overboard when beating up the pirate that was accosting you and your daughter, and was able to see how sleeping with Tavira would've been a big mistake. I also was able to accept that, regardless of whatever else I may be in my life, I was also a Jedi, and I could no longer deny that to myself. In fact, I had to embrace it if there was to be any way to save Mirax.

I thought I had everything reconciled then. I had accepted that I was a Jedi, after all. What more was there? I rejoined Rogue Squadron, planning to dedicate my life to serving the galaxy in that way, but bringing my Jedi heritage to it as well, much as my father had lived his life in CorSec.

Six years later, I realized that, once again, I'd been wrong. When it came time for Valin to learn the Jedi way, I realized how little I actually knew about the Force and what it was to be a Jedi. I couldn't teach my own son about our heritage!

Realizing how little I knew about my own heritage, I also realized that my ability to utilize the Force had dwindled over the years. I hadn't really given much thought to it before, hadn't even really noticed it, but as I looked back, I saw instances where I _should've_ been able to know things, or do things, but had not been able to. The crisis on Bothawui stood out in my mind, and I knew then that, had I continued my studies, I might have been able to be more effective during that time.

I also came to understand just why Luke had thought it better I not return to the Academy at that time. Everything became clear to me then. I had not been asked back to the Academy, I had difficulties with the Force, because I had not truly committed myself to being a Jedi. By dividing myself as I had, by believing I could be both a Jedi and a pilot, I had really been tearing myself in two. Because I wanted to be the best pilot I could be, I hadn't been focusing that much on being a Jedi. I could deny that fact as much as I wanted to, but it showed in my relationship with the Force.

The problem was that I still had not fully accepted my Jedi heritage. On one level, I understood that being a Jedi was not a part-time job, but I never allowed myself to think further on that, because then I would also have to accept that I had to be a Jedi first and foremost. I would have to make a commitment, if not to the Jedi order being established on Yavin, then at least to the Force. And I was afraid of what the Force would demand of me.

Then I realized, I was no longer afraid of that. I saw that my son would have to go to the Academy to learn about his Jedi heritage. The New Republic had signed a treaty with the Imperials, bringing peace to the galaxy. Wedge, Tycho, and many of the others were retiring from the Squadron. The pilot part of my life was coming to an end, and my son now needed me. I could best serve both the galaxy and my family by becoming a Jedi Knight.

So I went back to the Academy. I made the commitment to being a Jedi. Even with all that has happened now, I still feel that it was the best decision I've made in my entire life. I felt like I had finally come home. I was no longer hiding from my heritage, but had finally embraced it fully and completely. I was still serving the galaxy but, not only was I doing that, but I felt like I was _one_ with the galaxy. Whole new vistas were opened to me. I think back to how I felt the first time I allowed the Force to flow into me, the great and inexpressible joy I felt, and see now that it was just a glimmer of what I felt when I finally made that commitment.

And now I've gone and ruined all of that. Since leaving the Jedi, I have not opened myself up to the Force. I'm afraid to do so, afraid of what might happen. I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable with doing so again but, regardless of where my path eventually takes me, I will be doing it with my eyes wide open. I know I can't bring you back from the dead. I know I can't go back in time and undo what I have done. I can't change the past, but there is one thing I can do. For now on, I will not allow myself to hide things from myself. I will not allow myself to rationalize my thoughts, feelings, or actions to make myself look good in my own eyes.

I realize that this is probably an impossible task. Every being does some rationalizing from time to time. My vow is I will not allow myself to do so when the outcome has the potential to be detrimental to myself or another being. I've been doing it in one way or another my entire life, and it is time for it to stop. I owe it to you and your memory, Elegos. By killing Shai out of a mistaken desire for vengeance, I dishonored your memory. Maybe, just maybe, by being honest with myself, I can in some small way make up for that.

Your friend,

_Corran_

## The End


End file.
